


rhetoric of magic

by weatheredlaw



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Animal Transformation, F/M, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 04:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4333515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"You've been falling in love with him for months, and then he had to go get himself cursed and you're livid and on fire with it, but you will see this through to the end, even if it means he must never know--"</i> </p><p>or: Varric finds himself cursed, and Cassandra finds herself in a very confusing position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rhetoric of magic

**Author's Note:**

> This idea just sort of hit me on Saturday and I wrote it Sunday. It was super fun and I enjoyed working with it and I hope you enjoy it, too.

It was close to midnight when one of the guards came clamoring up the stairs of the forge. Cassandra had hidden herself away, lounging in a large chair she'd finally gotten the nerve to steal from an abandoned room in a damaged wing of the keep, and a handful of candles littered the shoddy table she'd convinced Harritt to repair for her. She set her book down as she stood, returning the guard's salute.

"Lady Pentaghast, the Inquisitor has asked for you. At the stables." Cassandra nodded curtly, bending down to pull on her boots. "You...may want to bring your sword as well, m'lady." The guard gave a worried glance out the window, and rushed down the stairs. Curious, Cassandra strapped her shield and sword to her back and followed him. 

The moment she opened the door to the outside, she heard it -- a rough screech, small in comparison to those that lived deep in her memory. She briefly wondered if she'd been a fool to follow the guard without putting on her armor, but if _this_ had happened -- Maker, she didn't know what to expect. How could one have...no. Impossible, she would have heard...something? Wouldn't she? Where had the Inquisitor been before this? She couldn't quite remember. It had been two weeks since Cassandra had left Skyhold, and not of her own volition. Leliana insisted she needed to rest, and the Inquisitor had agreed. Cassandra would have never admitted it was exactly what she needed.

As she approached the hill above the stables, she spotted Dorian at its crest, tense and with his staff at the ready. He heard her before he saw her and turned around, looking worried. "Ah, _there_ you are. She'll be glad to see _you._ "

"What's happened?"

"Well, there was a bit of an...incident. In the Hissing Wastes." 

Cassandra raised a brow. She'd yet to go to the Wastes, and was, for now, glad of it. They only seemed to go at night or sunset, and Cassandra detested sand. Their first expedition into the Approach had lasted almost three weeks, with herself, Varric, and Dorian dragging behind the Inquisitor, who had happily reported that she had absolutely loved desert scapes as a child, chipper when she spotted a patch of Deathroot or some rather precocious looking tumbleweeds. "Define _incident_ ," Cassandra said.

"Would you like to go see?"

"No. I would like to stand here and guess about what could not wait until dawn."

"I suppose it could have. Consider it recompense for the blister incident in the Hinterlands."

"You were suffering."

"I _excel_ at suffering." He put a hand on her arm and led her over the hill. The noise had only happened once before she'd found Dorian, but now it erupted at them as they grew closer, louder and shriller than Cassandra remembered. 

And then, as she reached the expanse of grass and mud, she saw it. Standing as proud and angry as it could, its mouth a tangle of ropes and chains that it struggled against. 

"Is that--"

"Not full sized, but yes."

" _How--_ "

"Ah, see, _here_ is where the story gets interesting."

"Is it a juvenile?"

Dorian shook his head. "Certainly not. Some sort of _pygmy_ version, I suspect. Part of the curse that made him that way. I don't _think_ the intention was to turn anyone into a full sized--"

"What do you mean by _curse?_ "

"Exactly that. A curse."

"So this is--" 

Dorian gestured toward the creature. "Indeed. Our good friend Varric has met a rather unfortunate circumstance."

 

 

 

" _A dragon?_ " 

"Yes, commander."

"A bloody _dragon?_ "

Trevelyan sighed and leaned back in her chair, scrubbing her hands over her face. "Cullen, you need to _sit down._ "

"There is a _dragon_ at Skyhold. I will not be told to _calm_ myself--"

"Actually," Dorian said. "What we have is a good friend caught in a rather bad situation, which happens to be that he has _become_ a dragon." He paused. "So, yes. We do have a dragon at Skyhold. Would Varric object to remaining a dragon, you think?"

Trevelyan choked. "Oh, I'd say he would."

Cullen was certainly a sight. He hadn't gotten fully dressed after being roused by a guard and was livid he hadn't been contacted first. Something about the safety of the keep and _his_ battlements and _his_ men. _Our men_ , the Inquisitor had reminded him, and he'd only looked sheepish long enough to be told that there was now a dragon in the stables. Or outside the stables. Master Dennett was very upset.

Cassandra finally spoke. "Not a full sized dragon. And not even a dragonling."

"Has it been contained?"

"Sleeping, currently," Leliana said, coming into the war room. "I just spoke with the mages. It took some time, but our friend is now resting."

"Cassandra." Cullen pointed at her. "You can handle this, can't you?"

"I have been trained to hunt dragons, not cajole them."

"Are we certain it's really _Varric_?" Josephine asked. She hadn't bothered to change her clothes at all, and was laying with her head on the war table in her nightgown, toying with one of the pieces. "Perhaps he was just switched and the actual Varric is in a dragon's nest or at the top of a very tall tower. Oh, we could go and _rescue_ him!" 

"Josie, perhaps you should go back to bed."

"It's definitely Varric." The Inquisitor stood. "I was there when it happened, I..." She looked at her feet, a flush crawling over her neck. _Shame_ , Cassandra thought. "It didn't happen right away. It didn't happen slowly either, but--"

"So you saw it," Cassandra said. Trevelyan nodded. "Then we know it is him. Which means we know it was a very certain kind of spell. There are not many in this world that can turn a grown dwarf into another creature."

"We will have the mages start looking into this at dawn," Josephine said, straightening up. She made a few notes before covering her mouth to yawn. "I think I _will_ retire," she said. "Maker, this has been a night." Cullen followed after her, waving tiredly over his shoulder, and a few of the guards trickled out as well. 

"Cassandra." The Inquisitor's voice was tight -- exhausted and anxious and hopeful all at once. "Could you...I mean, I know you're not exactly a dragon _caretaker_ , but Frederic is occupied and I just...you understand." Cassandra nodded, remembering the pesky professor that had taken up so much of their time in the Approach. An intelligent, but daft man. Varric hadn't liked him from the start, so Cassandra doubted that the dragon version of Varric would appreciate being observed, poked, and prodded by an academic. 

The question that remained, then, was if he wanted to spend time with a dragon _hunter_ instead.

 

 

 

According to Dorian in the morning, the dragon would not be moved from the stables. When she asked how he'd _gotten_ there in the first place, Dorian chuckled. "Followed the horses. I think it was Varric's way of maintaining normalcy. Or maybe just habit, who knows. He was actually rather calm once we got here, but the guards panicked and it spooked him, I think." He frowned. "The Inquisitor was right. We should have kept him away from the keep."

"You think he is no longer safe here?"

"I don't know anything anymore, honestly. I didn't even know you could _do_ this to a person. But, here we are."

Here they were indeed. The dragon -- _Varric_ , Cassandra thought quickly. _This is Varric._ \-- was awake now, snapping his jaws against the bindings around his snout. 

"That looks unpleasant," Dorian said.

Cassandra turned to the guards. "Remove those."

"But Seeker Pentaghast--"

" _Remove them_ , or I will do it myself." Varric's eyes flitted toward Cassandra's briefly, before a handful of guards reached up and cut the bindings and undid the chains. He shook head violently, and they fled. 

Dorian had been right the night before. The curse had not turned Varric into a dragonling, or even a full sized creature. Rather, it had simply turned him into a smaller dragon. Likely a tenant of the curse. Smaller dragons were not common -- they were quickly picked off by larger ones, while the runts of the litter were sometimes eaten by their siblings before they could mature. If the curse was intended to make the recipient easier to kill, it had done the job. 

But a dragon was still a dragon, and there were rows of teeth and four feet full of lethal claws to contend with. 

"Varric." Cassandra saw no point in pretending he wasn't aware of what was happening. When she spoke, he turned to her and stepped back, slamming into the wall. The noise spooked him again and he cried out, tail whipping around and narrowly missing one of the stable walls. The horses shrieked and Dennet came outside, face red with anger.

"Get that _thing_ away from my horses, Seeker!" He pointed. "It'll tear down Skyhold and then what'll we have?"

"He isn't much larger than one of your mounts," Dorian said dryly. "I wonder if it's because he's a dwarf." Varric stomped, and Dorian laughed. "Oh come now, that was _funny._ " 

"Let's try _not_ teasing the fire breathing creature?" Bull appeared behind them. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"

"Oh, you know me. I antagonize at _every_ opportunity."

Cassandra shook her head. "Master Dennet isn't wrong. We need to move him." She turned to the guards to have them get more rope, but by then they were gone. She spotted the last of them fleeing over the hill. Cullen would be furious. "How should we do this?" she asked finally. 

Bull shrugged. "You could just ask him to follow you. He seems to know what's happening." Varric stepped forward a few feet and Bull chuckled. "There you go."

"But where _should_ we keep our new pet dragon?" Dorian asked. 

"There are still parts of the keep that haven't been renovated," Bull said. "Probably won't be for a long time, they're in bad shape."

"On the other side of Skyhold," Dorian said. "Oh, you _would_ remember those. We were--"

Cassandra spoke loudly. "Varric. Follow us." 

Varric perked up at her words, probably just as glad as she not to hear Dorian recount a romp among splinters and rubble. He started walking behind her, and the four of them must have been a sight to the guards, traipsing across the grounds. Varric fell in step beside Cassandra. Even if the Inquisitor had not seen the transformation, Cassandra thought it would have been obvious who this was. His scales were red and gold, eyes the same rich color, and it seemed that his mouth was still stuck in a perpetual smirk, always knowing a bit more than he should, always ready with a clever quip or bit of prose. But he was sad, all the same, and it was not a good look for Varric, dragon or otherwise.

 

 

 

Vivienne, Solas, and Dorian led the academic hunt for a spell that would reverse the curse. It had been done by a Venatori mage, so Dorian was calling to all corners of the countryside on ancient Tevinter spells and dragon rituals. When Frederic returned, he was put to work reading translated texts and assisting Cassandra in the day to day care that went with a dragon. Frederic was surprisingly not interested, however, in making sure Varric the dragon didn't die under their watch. 

"He's very _small_ ," the professor noted. "Bit anticlimactic, don't you think?"

"Lucky, is what I'd call it," Dorian said. "Why don't you go back to the library? I think Cassandra can handle this."

"Of course." 

"Idiot," Dorian muttered, once he'd gone. "Like we need a full sized dragon living in Skyhold. Cullen would _shit._ "

"He's a bit more preoccupied with his frightened guards," Cassandra said dryly. She'd walked in on him yesterday putting them through another day of punishing, rigorous training, and had only stopped to listen to him shout that it was bad form and _treachery_ to leave members of the Inquisition alone with dangerous creatures.

Despite Cassandra's careful watch and Frederic's research, the dangerous creature in question was not doing very well. Varric didn't want to eat, and he slept for very long periods of time with little convincing. He huffed when she approached and could only be convinced to walk to the stream that flowed at the bottom of the mountain to drink. Concerned, Cassandra committed his appearance to memory and began trying to figure out what _kind_ of dragon Varric had become. Perhaps instinct would kick in and finally trump dwarven resilience.

When that failed her, she headed to the kitchens. 

The cook had heard what had happened, but she wasn't the nosy sort, and she didn't really care for dragons that much, horse sized or otherwise. "What can I get you, love?"

"Does Master Tethras have a favorite meal?"

The cook nodded. "Likes the stews, 'specially the leak and barley. Cut up a bit of ram into it, he calls it divine."

"I wonder if you could make a very large amount of it, and have it delivered."

"Can you pay one of the Commander's men enough?"

"I will have the Iron Bull come and retrieve it then," Cassandra said. She'd have a word with Cullen later.

"Alright then. Great big pot of stew, comin' up."

When Bull arrived some hours later, Varric was almost asleep, breathing labored and miserable. Bull set the pot in front of him and gave him a gentle shove. " _Hey_. You need to eat, you big oaf, stop upsetting the Seeker."

"I'm not--"

Varric lifted his head lazily, looked between Bull and Cassandra, and then eyed the pot of stew. He sniffed at it and, deciding that it was obviously alright, he gave a great push, stuck his snout into the mixture and ate half of it. 

 

 

 

"Bet you can ride him." Sera grinned and approached Varric, who bared his teeth. Sera flicked his snout. "Uh-uh, _bad_ dragon." He snapped at her fingers.

"I wondered the same thing myself," Dorian said with a grin, and Varric returned the favor in kind. "So many _teeth._ It's really quite fascinating. I wonder if he'll miss them when we've changed him back. I bet he'd let _you_ ride him, Cassandra."

Sera's face twisted up. "That'd be a _sight--_ "

"Oh come now, not like _that--_ " Varric huffed again very loudly, this time with smoke and a bit of spark. Dorian stepped back. "Yes, alright we get it. Your feelings on the Seeker haven't changed." Varric huffed again. "Don't get _cheeky._ I'll go then, if you're so upset." Sera trailed after him, leaving Cassandra alone with a very annoyed dragon.

It surprised her, what Dorian had said. She'd been under the impression that she and Varric were becoming tolerant of one another, at the very least. But if Varric felt otherwise, he didn't show it to her. Instead he pushed against her shoulder with the tip of his tail, and gave her something as close to a smile as she could tell. Cassandra smiled in turn and reached out, putting a hand under his jaw carefully. 

"I miss your voice, I think," she said quietly. 

Varric huffed, as if to say, _Me, too._

 

 

 

It had been a month since the incident at the Hissing Wastes, and Dorian and the others didn't seem to be any closer to figuring out what had really happened to Varric, or how to reverse it. Cassandra would update him every morning, telling him about what Dorian was reading, or some of the spells Vivienne and Solas were trying. After a while, though, there was nothing new to say, and Varric seemed to know it. On a particularly silent morning, he lead her away from the keep, through the doors they'd repaired some weeks ago, and down the hill. The snow was beginning to thaw, in part, but the air was frigid by the water. Varric drank deeply before settling into a patch of sun. 

"You brought me here so you could nap?" she asked. He threw a look over his shoulder. _Go on back then._ But Cassandra shook her head. It wasn't often that she went away from the keep, and Leliana would probably be pleased. Reaching into the pack at her belt, she pulled out a book. Not one of Varric's, but one Dorian had loaned her, an old read from Tevinter. Varric nudged her as she opened it. "Would you like me to read it?" A huff. "Alright then. Just a bit."

And so for an hour, Cassandra read aloud. The prince was professing his love when Josephine crested the hill, a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she smiled down at them. "Cassandra, you're needed by the Inquisitor."

"Of course." 

Josephine trecked down the hill, glancing between them before turning to Varric. "Would you like me to continue for you?" He huffed again and she nodded. "Very well. I'll return the book to you tomorrow, Cassandra." She set her blanket on the ground and laid the book open in her lap. 

_"I do love you," the prince said. "The sharpest parts of me adore you, and I would see the world burn before I saw you marry someone else."_

 

 

 

Cassandra fell into a habit of visiting with Varric before she began her training or letter writing each morning. He was usually alone, and they enjoyed the silence of each others company until Skyhold began to buzz with activity and Cassandra was needed elsewhere. So she was surprised, one morning, to find the Inquisitor sitting with Varric, laughing as she told him a story about Bull and Dorian in Empris. She looked up when Cassandra approached, pushing herself onto her feet. "There she is."

"Good morning, Inquisitor."

"I think Varric needs to get out."

"What?"

"Take a little trip, come out with us. We've got some work to do in the Emerald Graves this morning. It'll be beautiful, we'll kill a few Venatori mages--" Varric made a noise of agreement. "See? He's into it."

"I am not his keeper, I don't see why he shouldn't."

Trevelyan grinned. "Well, you're here the most. I figured I'd go to you." She paused. "But you should go with us." She looked at Varric. "I think he'd prefer it."

Cassandra nodded and turned on her heel to get ready. She wondered if it had been Dorian who'd suggested the Inquisitor go to her. Varric was hardly her _ward_ at this stage. She was simply...knowledgeable, she supposed. She knew about dragons and, truthfully, she knew about Varric. She understood him, to a certain degree. She'd known him longer than the others, had traveled from Kirkwall with him. A terrible journey, when she remembered it. He'd been angry, had lashed out the only way he knew and had dug at her history and her mannerisms for an hour before locking himself up in his cabin until they'd landed. 

Perhaps she didn't _know_ Varric, but she'd brought him here. And she supposed that, despite the lying, despite it all -- she was responsible for him, to an extent. 

When they set out, they must have been a sight -- the Inquisitor, with Dorian, Cole, and Cassandra on horseback, Varric walking next to them. When they hit the open plain on the way to the Graves, he made a noise and Cole said quietly, "Wouldn't you?"

The Inquisitor turned to him. "What is it?"

"He wants to fly."

Dorian laughed. "Oh, that is _magnificent._ " Without another sound, Varric took off, wings stretched out as he climbed into the sky. And though Cassandra had seen beasts four times his size, Dorian's word was not too far off the mark. He flew alongside them until they reached their camp, and landed deftly outside of it. Scout Harding had come by to hand out a few orders, and she was impressed. 

"That's a way to travel."

The Inquisitor laughed. "Anything for me today?"

"Just what we spoke about back at Skyhold. There's a holding of reds and mages south of here. A lot, actually, and they might have teamed up with some bandits. Maybe Varric can chew through a few dozen, huh?" She laughed. "Give 'em hell, Tethras." Varric snapped happily.

 

 

 

They were hardly finished clearing out the Templars and mages that had infested a corner of the Graves, and Cassandra was already exhausted. She was covered in sweat and blood and soot, and they'd been walking for hours. It never seemed to end, and there wasn't a camp of their own for at least an hour. Varric flew above them, calling out when he spotted a group of enemies. 

When it seemed like they might be walking and fighting and swearing at one another forever, Cassandra spotted one of Leliana's people and she breathed a sigh of relief. Cole smiled. "He is glad that we're glad."

"Is he _speaking_ to you?" Dorian asked. He had sprawled out on the grass and begun taking off his robes, groaning as he nursed a cut on his arm. "You could understand him _all this time_ \--"

"He doesn't speak. It's emotions. I can't understand the words in his head." Cole reached out and touched Varric's neck. "They're confused and not right. And it gets worse all the time."

"How so?"

"I think he's worried that he'll forget." 

Cassandra frowned. "Forget who he was?"

Cole's smile was sad. "Forget that he still wants to _be_ who he was."

 

 

 

It didn't rain often in the Graves, but come morning, the sky was dark with storm clouds, and as they headed out, it began to drizzle. "Bad sign," one of the scouts said to their retreating backs. And of course, not long into their walk, another wave of Templars attacked. They had come from nowhere, and Cassandra struggled to keep track of them, her heart racing as she swung her sword with as much tact as she could gather. She was tired of being here, tired of fighting, just simply _tired_ , and she longed to be back home, or as much a home as Skyhold was, now. 

They had each been run ragged, but there were fewer and fewer things to hit, even as the rain robbed them of sight, even as Cassandra saw Dorian take a knee, hard, and struggle to push himself back up. Behind her, Varric bellowed, crushed Templars under his feet, and swung his tail sharply. Cassandra felt them gaining the edge, she felt a second wind coming to her, she felt like she could fly as well, like she could take off and breath fire -- 

_Heat._ Rapid, growing heat that licked at her heels and was extinguished by the rain. Varric's mouth was molten, the ground in front of him charred. The bulk of the soldiers had begun focusing on taking him down, and Cassandra could not allow that, could not permit him to die, not like _this_ , not when he wasn't _himself_. 

She summoned the last bit of her strength and she began to cut them down. It was the damned _principal_ of the matter. They couldn't fix him if he was dead, and she couldn't tell him how she felt if he -- 

_How she felt?_ What in Andraste's name did she _mean_ by _how she felt?_ Cassandra didn't _feel_ something for Varric. She did not enjoy his company when he was a dwarf any more or less than she did now. She tolerated and appreciated his wit and talent. She respected his history and skills. She admired his way with words, the gentle sound of his voice when he would read a letter aloud at the war table. She had watched his hands when he wrote, the way they -- 

She drove her blade into the last Templar, and he fell with a wicked squelch in the muck and blood at her feet. 

"Burning on my tongue, swift like fire, like rain, I have to say something before it's--" Cassandra rounded on Cole and he went silent. But Varric had heard, and Varric was, dragon or otherwise, still _Varric._ She met his gaze, piercing and primal and new to her, and could not look away. 

 

 

 

"It's why you cared more than anyone else," Cole said. "Why you've sat by him through it all."

Cassandra sat apart from the others at camp, wrapped in a towel and staring at the stars that had begun to appear as the clouds vanished.

"Cole--"

"You've been falling in love with him for months, and then he had to go get himself cursed and you're livid and on fire with it, but you will see this through to the end, even if it means he must never know--"

"Please," she said quietly. "Please don't do this to me." 

"But it's what's in your _heart._ "

"My heart will lie to you," she said. "As it often does to me."

"Your thoughts are sad."

Cassandra laughed, but it sounded like she was choking on the sentiment. "I know you mean well, but I am not in the mood."

"He cares for you, too, you know."

"He would have starved himself to death without me. The Inquisition cannot lose a valuable asset because the asset is determined to brood until he dies."

Cole smiled and touched her shoulder. "I think that says a lot about you, Lady Cassandra."

 

 

 

Cassandra was sleeping off her post-Emerald Graves hangover when Vivienne apparently figured it out. According to Dorian, who had wandered into the library at two in the morning, bleary-eyed, exhausted, and smelling of blood,, she was ecstatic and shaking with joy. She'd brandished the book at him and shoved it in his hand, running down the stairs to find Solas, her skirts gathered in her hands as she shouted, "We've got it! We've _finally_ got it!" Dorian read the passage, decided he could sleep later, and sent someone to wake the Inquisitor. 

"Up, Cassandra, _up!_ " He was taking the stairs, now, two at a time, and Cassandra sat up in her bedroll wondering how long it would take to strangle him to death. "Keep your hands to yourself and get your boots. We've got a dwarf to rescue." 

Cassandra rubbed a hand over her face. "What?"

"Vivienne found a spell in some dusty old _tome_. She and Solas are going to try it."

"Will it work?"

Dorian smiled at her. "You won't find out here."

Cassandra nodded, pulling on her boots and following him out. Only the Inquisitor was awake with four of them, standing off to the side and yawning. She smiled at Cassandra, holding up a blanket. "In case he's _naked._ "

"Cassandra won't mind," Dorian said.

Solas frowned. "Are we sure we have it right?"

"We've gone over it a hundred times," Vivienne said, rolling up her sleeves. She was quite different when waist deep in magic and theory and the blood and guts of it all. Cassandra admired her for a number of reasons, did not trust her for others -- but right now, she watched her. She watched Solas, she watched Dorian -- and she watched Varric.

Varric was looking nervous, exhaling smoke and stomping uncomfortably. Cassandra stepped forward and put a hand on his neck and he looked at her, but she couldn't tell what he thought tonight, or what he wanted from her, so she kept her hand on him until Dorian gently pulled her away. "It will work, Cassandra. Trust this."

"If it does not--"

"Dorian." Solas turned to him. "It's time." 

"Just..." Dorian squeezed her hand. "Stand over there." Cassandra nodded and joined the Inquisitor, who linked their arms together. 

The details and rhetoric of magic have always confused Cassandra, and she would never be able to say what they did or how they did it that night. What she knew was that it took time, it took energy, it took everything they had. Cassandra didn't know how long they spent standing in the chill of the night, but when she could finally see what was happening, when she could finally _see_ a change -- it was sunrise. And when the morning light did, finally, _finally_ spill over the battlements, the dragon was gone. 

 

 

 

Varric slept for four days, and was sick for three more after that. The healers said there was nothing really wrong with him -- he had some burns on his chest, his lips were raw, and he was borderline delirious. He asked for his brother, he asked for Hawke, he asked for Bianca. At some point, he asked for the Seeker. Cassandra didn't go to him. Dorian was against it, and the Inquisitor had seen him. She said it was bad, that he needed rest, and he would come back to them when it was time.

For several days, Cassandra waited. She kept herself busy -- she read, she trained, she walked in the woods outside Skyhold, but she was impatient. 

Some days later, while she sat at her usual spot in a patch of sunlight, another book on loan from Dorian in her lap, a familiar shadow fell over her. "You finished the last one without me." 

"You fell asleep when I was reading." Cassandra closed her book and looked up at him. He was thinner, and looked tired, but when he smiled, he was there. All of him. He extended a hand, but instead of pulling herself up, Cassandra urged him to come down to her. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't thank you right away."

"You were indisposed."

"So I've heard."

Cassandra looked away. "What do you remember?"

"Everything."

"Everything?"

Varric leaned in and pried the book from her other hand, setting it on the ground. He filled the empty space with his own. "Every single thing, Seeker." Cassandra remembered the moment in the Graves, and Varric seemed to understand. "I have to say something. Before it's too late."

"Do not patronize me, do _not_ \--"

"Cassandra." Her name on his tongue surprised her, and she inhaled, harsh and staggering and could not bring herself to breathe out. "If I had never been able to tell you. If it hadn't worked, if I hadn't made it. If it had killed me instead--"

"Varric--" 

"Would you believe I was going to tell you that day?"

"Too convenient for you."

"I _wanted_ to tell you that day. And the day before, and all the days before that, right from the moment I realized it. But I was a coward. And I wasn't going to say anything, and I never would have because I never could have thought, in any fever dream I could have had, that you would feel the same way I did."

Cassandra laughed, but it was really a _sob_ , and she gripped his hands tighter than she should have, and buried her face against them. "You are impossible, did you know that?"

"I'm in love with you. Did you know _that?_ "

Cassandra lifted her head. "I wish I had." And she fell into him, kissing his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, pressing her lips to the closed lids of his eyes until he reached up and held her face in his hands, capturing her mouth with his own. Cassandra laughed into his mouth, and she felt something rich and warm and _lasting_ well up in her heart and spill over into his own.


End file.
